Sixteen Going on Seventeen
by ValentinaTart
Summary: Another day, another one of Ranger's cars exploding on Stark Street. Babe if you squint.


It was after midnight when a sleek black Porsche slid to a stop in front of Lula's townhouse. I was sitting on the stoop, nursing my wounded ego with a lemon jelly doughnut. Not my first, as the yellow jelly stains decorating the neckline of my new white top could attest.

I paused, doughnut halfway to my mouth, and glared at Lula. "You didn't."

Lula stood, hands on hips, and glared right back at me. "Don't you be giving me none of them looks. I'm not the one who got stranded on Stark Street."

"But did you have to call _him_?"

"Damn right I had to call him. You get in trouble, I call Ranger. That's the rule."

"It's a stupid rule," I mumbled into my doughnut.

"Huh," Lula said. "Well, last I checked, it wasn't up to you." She whipped out her phone and began dialing. "But if you insist, I'll be happy to call your mother…"

"No!" I lunged at Lula, barely managing to hit the red dot cancelling the call before it could connect. "Okay, fine. You win." I glanced over at the Porsche and the side window rolled down. Brown eyes creased with frustration and annoyance stared back at me. "You _both_ win."

I slumped forward and shuffled down the stoop. Lula called me back.

"Here," she said, reaching into the doughnut bag. She handed me the last doughnut—another lemon jelly. "You need this more than I do."

"Thanks," I said. But it was going to take a lot more than a doughnut to get me out of this mess.

I stuck the doughnut in my mouth while I buckled myself into the passenger's seat and nearly choked on a glob of jelly as the Porsche sped away from the curb.

"What the crap?" I said. "I almost inhaled my doughnut!"

"I've told you before, I don't want you eating jelly doughnuts in my car."

I rolled my eyes and ate faster. "Don't worry. It's almost gone."

"Mind telling me what you were doing on Stark Street?"

_Yeesh_. "As a matter of fact, I do mind."

"That's not an acceptable answer."

"How did you know I was here, anyway? What, did you interrogate my friends until they talked?" Silence lapsed. "Oh my god, you did, didn't you?"

"Of course not. I don't need to torture someone to get information on you."

A lightbulb went off in my head. I pulled my bag onto my lap and began rifling through it. An ugly taupe lipstick was tucked neatly into my makeup bag. I'd seen it before when I was getting ready for my date with Joe, but I had written it off as being my grandmother's.

I held up the lipstick. "You were spying on me? Seriously? Aren't there privacy laws against this sort of thing?"

"Maybe. But while you're living under my roof, they don't apply to you."

I folded my arms over my chest. "When are you going to stop throwing that up in my face?"

"When you find a place of your own, pay your own bills."

Honestly.

"Were you with Joe?"

I gave a non-committal shrug.

"I told you before, I don't want you seeing him."

I scoffed. "Let me guess, another thing I can't do while I'm under your roof?"

"No. I'm resigned to the fact that you're going to date." His voice was tinged with disappointment and wistfulness. "I just want you to be careful."

"I _am_ being careful."

He cut his eyes to me. "You took my car without asking, allowed it to be stolen, raced illegally, and blown up on Stark Street."

"That was an anomaly."

"There have been a lot of anomalies since Joe's been back in the picture. Too many." We slowed at a traffic light and he turned to me, lifting my chin to meet his eyes. "I know you think I'm overprotective, but I love you and I want what's best for you."

"He _is_ what's best for me."

The expression in his eyes softened, turning sad. "I disagree." The light turned green and we merged onto Oakland Avenue. We wrapped around the cul-de-sac and pulled into the right side of a two-car garage.

I pulled the door handle and stopped. "Are you going to rat me out?"

A long, uncertain sigh. "I haven't decided yet."

The light was still on in the kitchen when we walked inside. An empty cereal bowl sat on the counter. Duncan the Cat hadn't yet helped himself to the leftover milk, which meant it was recent. Which meant my life was over.

_So_ over.

"Where's mom?"

"She's out looking for you," he said. "I messaged her when Lula called. She should be home any minute now."

I set my trajectory for the back staircase but my escape was thwarted by a pair of strong hands steering my shoulders back into the kitchen, parking me in one of the dining room chairs. "Trust me," he said. "It's better if we get this over with tonight."

"It must kill you to be so morally superior all the time."

"It is my curse," he said, setting the cereal bowl in the floor for Duncan. "How many doughnuts did you have at Lula's?"

"Just the one." He lifted an eyebrow. "Okay, two."

Or six. But who was counting?

"So I guess you have room for ice cream."

I shrugged. Who was he kidding? I _always_ had room for ice cream.

He set two bowls on the table and handed me a spoon, then began divvying up the ice cream. Three scoops for me. Barely half a scoop for him. Way to party, dad.

"I don't want you getting too involved with this boy," he said.

"_Dad_…"

"No. You don't get to _Dad_ me about this. Rachel was your age when I got her pregnant with Julie."

An involuntary red tinge flooded my face. "Oh god. Not another sex talk."

"Yes, another sex talk."

"I promise you, I'm not going to get pregnant."

"Would you rather hear the STD version?"

"God. No."

"Then be quiet and eat your ice cream."

There wasn't enough ice cream in the world for another of my dad's sex lectures.

"I know you think you're in love with this guy, but I don't think you have the experience to know that yet."

"Because I'm sixteen?"

"Because you're sixteen. Because he's your first boyfriend. Because teenage boys will tell you anything you want to hear if it means getting what they want what they want."

"Joe isn't like that."

"They're _all_ like that."

"Even you, when you were a teenager?" I asked, using my spoon to idly carve small circles in my melted ice cream.

"Especially me. It wasn't until I met your mother that things began to change."

The sound of the garage door opening made me drop my spoon into my bowl with a clang. My heart ratcheted up a notch and my throat went tight.

My mom was home. Death was imminent.

Dad sighed and motioned to the staircase. "Go to your room. Turn out the light. I'll tell her you went to bed. Understand, this is not you getting off the hook. There will be war tomorrow. And you're grounded indefinitely."

I gave him a big hug and darted up to my room. "I owe you one," I called down the stairs.

"You owe me a million," he yelled back.


End file.
